It ain't over until the fat lady sings
by WriterKos
Summary: Opera. Wagner. Drama. Murder. Do we need more? A crime is committed during an opera night and all members of the team are witnesses. Gibbs's and Mac Taylor's teams must figure out how to get to the final act before the fat lady sings. Written for the WEE 2012
1. Das Rheingold

**_Title: It ain't over until the fat lady sings_**  
**_Author: WriterKos_**  
**_Rating: FR18_**  
**_Parings: none_**  
**_Characters: Ducky, McGee, the team._**  
**_Genres: Character Study, Drama, Crime, Crossover._**  
**_Warnings: Music overdose_**  
**_Summary: Opera. Wagner. Drama. Murder. Do we need more?_**

**_A crime is committed during an opera night and all members of the team are witnesses. Gibbs's and Mac Taylor's teams must figure out how to get to the final act before the fat lady sings._**

**_Slight Crossover with CSI:NY_**

**_Written for the WEE 2012 for SondheimmcGeek (Colleen)_**

An opera in four parts. In order to enhance the experience, listen the music while you read.

Youtube **_Der Ring des Nibelungen, Das Rheingold Act 1: Prelude-Part I _**

* * *

**_FIRST PART: DAS RHEINGOLD_**

**_Albericht:_**  
_Fear ye not yet?_  
_Then wanton in darkness, watery brood!_  
_My hand quenches your light,_  
_I wrestle from the rock the gold,_  
_Fashion the ring of revenge;_  
_For hear me floods:_  
**_Love henceforth be accursed!_**

After the second ring the crowds silently take their places and become absolute quiet as the lights deem and the sound of the first accords start to sound, here and there interrupted by a cough from one of the theatre goers.

The trumpets and horns start a soft undulating symphony. The strings add a soft melodic line mixing with the accords still played by the brass, announcing soft images of playful mermaids swimming freely in the bottom of the sea, floating, dancing and swirling in the water, free to go and to do as they pleased. No responsibilities or worries, just the endless toil of swimming, swirling, feeling the water on their moist skin as they're doing exactly what they've done since they were created.

The music enters a crescendo, the strings becoming more intense as it arrives to an apex and the strident sound of a female voice pierces the air, announcing the beginning of the opera Das Rheingold by Wagner.

As three women started to jump and swirl on the podium fitted as the sea bottom, McGee tries to sit more comfortably on the chair, aware that there were still several hours until the opera is over.

As the Rhinemaidens sing about how they frolic joyfully in the bottom of the Rhine river, McGee chances a glance at his side where Ducky is sitting with the rest of the team. He is watching the performance with tears in his eyes, his lips silently moving with the song – the man probably has memorized the lyrics in German – while Abby looks fascinated at the singers and the stage set for the production, probably calculating the possibilities of one of those singers slipping in the intricate and dangerous looking stage of this Metropolitan Opera production.

After Abby, Gibbs looks at the singers unimpressed, his eyes glazed as he probably was thinking of anything but the opera.

Poor Gibbs, he was sucked in to attend this evening of stuffy music just because it was Ducky's birthday and the whole team had pitched in to buy the so coveted tickets for the grand production that Ducky had been talking about for months.

Only a very good friend would do such sacrifice, but Gibbs was nothing but loyal to his old delicate colleague, whose spirit has been in a deep funk during the last months and that had soared as soon as the marine deposited the very coveted – and expensive - tickets in the old Scott's trembling hands.

And Gibbs was implacable: if his ass was going to be stuck on a chair of a pompous theatre for hours, so would all the team's asses share the same fate. That meant that Tony and Ziva are sitting with huge pouts by his side, each trying to not kill each other while they bickered like small children stuck in a car for too many hours.

Ziva pinches Tony as he starts to speak during a particularly loud part of the song of the Rhinemaidens, making him yelp and earn a scorching glare from the Marine sitting by their side. Tony, aggravated, points to Ziva with his most innocent face silently mouthing it was her fault.

Gibbs simply rolls his eyes and turns his attention to the stage, not without hitting Tony and Ziva with headslaps. As the Rhinemaidens were singing particularly loud, their yelps of pain were not noticed as they mixed with the song. Finally they settle down for at least the next five minutes.

McGee turns his gaze back to the stage where poor Alberich is trying to woe at least one of the Rhinemaidens but the gnome is mocked and taunted by the beautiful sirens. The way they mock him strike a chord in his soul, as he might not be a swarthy, spotted and sulfury dwarf but he understood quite clearly the aching of an unrequited love to a soul, of the burning madness of seeking and desiring the love and attention of a beautiful maiden just to have his hopes and dreams dashed to the floor.

As the Rhinemaidens reveal the secret of the Rheingold and Alberich, in a moment of madness – or extreme lucidity – of his part, decides to forsake love and take revenge of those wenches who had mocked, humiliated and hurt him without even batting the eye, McGee feels a strange burning in his chest.

He understands the motivations behind Alberich's actions, as only someone who had loved and not being loved in return too many times could chose to forsake love and seek retribution on such a terrible deed: creating a ring made out of the Gold of Gods in order to seek revenge against all those who fooled him.

As Alberich climbs towards his goal, he curses and mocks the Rhine-daughters, his gaze filled with such hatred that could only come from love unfulfilled, bringing a small startled revelation to McGee.

_Bangt euch noch nicht?_

McGee shivers as Alberich sings the lines that seal his fate – and everyone else's fate - forever.

_schmiede den rachenden Ring;_  
_den hor'es die Fluh:_  
**_so verfluch' ich die Liebe!_**

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The endless toil of the gods and giants on the stage, all seeking the power of the ring created by the gold of the Rhine goes on and on, and McGee's mind wanders with the songs, thoughts skimming at the surface of his consciousness as Wotan tries to break the contract with the giants who had built his palace and now seek the promised payment.

As each person who comes close to the ring slowly lose their sanity in a mindless quest for power, he sees images of people from his past flashing past his mind's eye, each first in their own clothes which slowly dissolve into the flashy and strange costumes of those on the stage of the Met.

As people of his past started to sing demanding power and money, he blinks, trying to dispel the image and breathing deeply when he finally sees only the strange makeup of the professional singers on the stage, none of the ghosts of his past.

As the giants sink into madness and fight for the ring, one killing the other, the king of the Gods realizes how serious the situation is and swears to solve the problem, unaware that he can do nothing.

The Gods are dammed.

It's just a matter of time until he realizes that his actions are for nothing.

-TBC -


	2. DIE WALKÜRE

Second part of the Ring Cycle - Please play the song while reading. It's going to enhance the experience.

Soundtrack of this chapter: _Die Walkure Segunda Parte - Parte 1 de 5_ in youtube

**_PART TWO - DIE WALKÜRE_**

_**Waltraute**:_  
_To the wood guides she her staggering horse_

_**Grimgerde**:_  
_From fierce riding_  
_How Grane pants!_

_**Rossweisse**:_  
_So fast none e'er saw Valkyrie flying!_

_**Orlinde**:_  
_What lies on her saddle?_

_**Helmwige**:_  
_That is no man!_

_**Siegrune**:_  
_See, a maid bears she._

_**Gerhilde**:_  
_Where found she the maid?_

_(…)_

_**Valkyrie**:_  
_Sister! Sister!_  
_What has beffal'n?_

_**Brünhilde**:_  
_Shield me and help in direst need!_

_(…)_  
_I flee for the first time,_  
_And am pursued:_  
_Warfather follows close!_

_**Valkyrie**:_  
_Lost are thy senses?_  
_Speak to us! What? Fleest thou from him?_  
_Ha! Speak!_  
_Pursues thee Warfather? O say!_

_(…)_

_What madness urged thee this deed to do?_  
**_Lost one! Brünhilde, lost one!_**

Another night in the opera is on and after two long acts the next one starts with the animated clapping of the audience to the entry of the conductor, who waves enthusiastically at them before turning to his Wagnerian orchestra and with only a swing of his baton he conducts the crescendo of the introduction of the third act of the second work of the Ring circle.  
Once more the team is sitting in their privileged position watching another opera at the Metropolitan and it is a repeat of the previous night.

McGee is slightly suspicious that Gibbs has ear plugs to endure this and the next two nights they will be subjected to several hours of music that definitely doesn't fit the older man's tastes. He's too relaxed at his seat and there's even a lazy smile on his lips as the women ran on the stage, singing in strident voices the powerful song of the Amazon warriors.

Abby is enjoying the night almost as much as Ducky, as she somehow found the full libretto online in German with its equivalent English version so both were carefully following the singers as they sing about their sad fates, their lost hopes and doomed loves – spotted here and there by betrayal, broken marriages and incest – the fate of the gods is once again doomed by their own actions.

Ziva and Tony have settled down to their fates and are slightly snoring one supporting each other, twitching slightly at the parts where the soprano's voice fills the theatre.

As the story unfolds he thinks about the endless attempts of the Valkyrie Brünhilde of being a good child, blindly obeying the orders of her father – The Ruthless War God Wotan - and right at the end, when she finally decides to make one single decision on her own, keeping true to her own consciousness, she is punished.

Let's just forget the several years of devotion, trying to abide to her father's wishes, regardless of how stupid and senseless they seemed to be: there goes Brünhilde doing her father's biding again and again until the day she decides finally to stand up and act according to her own mind.

Only one slip and her fate is sealed.

Her punishment is harsh and cruel, done by the hands of the loving father she had dedicated her whole life to obey.

As Brünhilde contemplates her future banishment in a long wailing song, McGee is sure that her story is painfully familiar.

The blind dedication and obedience, the docile servitude only a dominant personality could impose onto a biddable mind of a child.

The Valkyrie sisters sing in despair as Wotan arrives, announcing the terrible anger that will rule his decisions and acts towards the rebellious child. He casts his daughter away from the immortal realm, reducing her to be a mere mortal, as she will never be like him again.

Forsaken immortality: Now that's a punishment worth to the Gods.

Daughters of a God, created only to do his biding and choosing the warriors worthy to partake ale in their father's royal hall – Valhalla, the hall of the God's – the warrior princesses wail and cry as they are sworn fealty to Wotan, unable to break such vow to protect the fragile Sieglinde and her unborn son as well as the rebel Valkyrie Brünhilde.

As Brünhilde cries and wails McGee considers his own situation: he would never be up to his father's standards, regardless of what he did and which path he chose. His choices would always be wrong because they weren't what his father had chosen for him.

He didn't go into the Navy service.

He became a Federal agent instead.

He didn't bow to his wishes.

He gently pats the letter carefully folded in his front pocket, but he doesn't need to read it to remember each word printed in it. His mother's careful and delicate handwriting informing him of the fate of people from his long gone past, which he carefully left behind never to revisit again.

He quietly shakes his head trying to banish the unpleasant news of the impending birth of a child to his high school sweetheart. Nathalie had been a bright girl with whom he shared a good part of his last year at school, even planning to take her to prom before…

No… he wasn't going to think about the accident.

No. That's a door definitely shut in his mind, locked with several keys and with a huge cupboard placed in front of it, barricading it forever.

He sighs and tries to pay attention to the plot of the opera but the acting on the stage is strangely familiar.

As any good-for-nothing father, Wotan is implacable to throw in Brünhilde's face the dept of her betrayal. She tries to negotiate but it's for nothing. She's banished, even though she had done exactly what he really had wanted, not what he had asked her to do.

For obeying the real will of the God Wotan, she is punished.

In a last act of a loving father, he circles her resting place with fire, promising her that only a true hero with a pure heart and not controlled by the gods may raise her from her slumber. As the fire – fake fire, of course – takes the stage, Wotan goes on and on saying that none who fears his spear may cross the fire.

McGee bites his lower lip, wondering what kind of curse his father threw at him in order to keep him the way he was today.

The song reaches a soft finale for this night of music and singing and the whole audience claps wildly. Abby kicks Tony's shin and he immediately wakes up, startling Ziva out of her slumber. They jump up, automatically clapping, some with more enthusiastic than others. Gibbs discretely yaws, hiding it behind the palm of his hand and going back to clapping.

There is the traditional moment that the conductor goes up the stage and both he and the singers bow to the audience.

The house comes down as the singers bow in thanks and they are all smiling wildly at the magnificent performance when the unthinkable happens: as all three lead singers are standing on the front stage, bowing happily to the audience, something snaps from the ceiling and falls towards the stage, its descent only stopped by a rope strategically placed and that makes it swing as a pendulum over the heads of the singers staring horrified at it.

They all watch horrified as the singers, well known for their priceless and purest tonal range, scream in their highest pitch as a body of a dead woman hangs over their heads, her face purple thanks to the lack of air caused by the rope tightly woven around her now broken neck.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Is it wrong to be glad that there's no more opera tonight?

Not that McGee is happy that someone was murdered. No, he would never be happy with the useless and senseless loss of human life.

He is just happy that he was free of attending the opera again. His ass muscles are aching from the hard seats of the theatre and his mind has the strange habit of wandering away during the music, playing tricks and putting people he knew on the main roles of the tragedy.

The road you didn't take hardly comes to mind, does it? The door you didn't try, where could it have led? The future is paved by past choices or present actions, yet how can one be fully content knowing the infinite number of possibilities of 'could have' and 'would have' that permeate the edge of one's consciousness?

It is in this pensive state that he follows Gibbs and the team towards the backstage, where the cast of singers, musicians and stage helpers has been substituted by the circus of CSIs, LEOs and techs as the stage has just become a crime scene.

The Met has been slowly emptied of their patrons; the musicians, singers and staff from the theater had been taken backstage to be interviewed about the happenings of the night; the body of the poor soul still hung from a rope coming from one of the upper platforms used to support the thousand dollar scenario utilized in the Met production.

Who knew their trip to NY would end up in murder?

Sounds like opera to me.

Gibbs flashes his badge immediately being granted access by the cop guarding the small access door, so he leads the small troupe of NCIS agents towards the man talking to one of the distressed sopranos, who is obviously close to a nervous breakdown. Obviously she is not used to dead women hanging from ropes. The cop finishes taking the soprano and one of the backstage staff gently guides the trembling woman away. As she goes away, she throws a glance filled with sentiment to the dead woman, her face expressing the dept of her turmoil before finally getting lost in the melee of the people in the stage.

Gibbs once again presents his badge and team to the cop, who immediately frowns.

"What are you doing here? This is not your jurisdiction."

"No, it's not." Gibbs pockets his credentials and immediately grows an inch or two, glaring at the cop who is surprisingly not intimidated by Gibbs' sour face. "We're witnesses. We were on the Grand Tier floor and we've watched it all. We would like to offer our services."

"Listen Agent…"

"Gibbs," the marine offered, seeing the serious look in the cop's face.

"Agent Gibbs, I have the very best team of investigators from the NY Crime Lab working on the scene. I appreciate the offer but as you can see, we have everything under control."

Just at that moment, a pale man with spiked hair and glasses shouts to the cop, taking his attention away Gibbs. He was standing on some stairs and taking pictures of the woman and was staring at her frowning. "Hey Mac, we're taking her down. There's something here you'd better see."

The cop, who was obviously the boss on the scene, gesture to Gibbs and his agents to take a few steps away as another agent approaches the stairs and take position under the other one who gently cuts the rope a few inches above the knot.

The two men work together and slowly lower the dead woman to the floor, both reverently laying her on the stage polished wooden slabs. The second man, a thin black man with glasses kneels beside her and immediately starts taking photos and making the preliminary exams.

Ducky takes a step forward. "Ah… agent... Mac?"

The first cop looks at him. "Detective Mac Taylor, at your service."

Ducky smiles politely at the cop. "May I take a look? I am a Medical Examiner for NCIS."

Mac throws a questioning glance at the thin black man who shrugs, not bothered with this new addition. "The more, the merrier." He mutters.

Mac gestures to Ducky, who eagerly approaches the fallen woman and the two men currently examining her. The other agents keep a respectful distance as they hadn't been invited into the investigation yet.

"Her injuries are consistent by strangulation. The bruising around the neck indicates the tracheal trauma which happened when the neck snapped under the strain of the rope."

"Correct Dr…"

"Dr. Mallard. But please call me Ducky."

"Dr Sheldon Hawkes, NY crime lab. I agree with your assessment, Dr. Mallard. But that's not what caught Danny's attention. Take a look at this."

The dead woman was in one of the intricate period costumes of the opera, full of skirts and underskirts. Her arms were bare and there were no signs of struggle or defensive wounds. But there was a strange message written in them with what looked to be lipstick on the same color of the one in her lips.

**LOOK FOR THE TRUTH**

**LOOK FOR ASIM AND HETTIE**

"I think she wanted to tell us something." Tony mutters, receiving a nod from the two crime scene investigators.

"And she found a hell of a way - loud and clear - to make everyone around listen to her." Mac said solemnly.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

The body is taken to the NY morgue for further examinations. Ducky looks pleadingly at Mac, eagerly expressing his desire to help with the proceedings as that was his area of expertise.

Besides, he would never sleep in peace if he couldn't help that poor soul who had lost her life in such tragic way. What kind of despair would lead such a young child to a helpless act?

Mac looks at the team of investigators and, after considering his options, shrugs and gestures to the team to join his CSIs, letting them brainstorm a little their ideas and what they had witnessed with what Danny and Sheldon had collected from the scene.

"Any idea of who are these Asim and Hettie people?"

"It seems that we will have to ask our stars." Mac mutters darkly as he looks towards the backstage where the singers were all gathered talking about the death of one of their own.

"You know what's funny about this whole thing?" Tony asks walking around the elaborated stage of the Met theatre, poking his head in the grooves of the stage and touching the fake rocks. "These folks should be used to death. I mean. This is opera, man. Wagner! It's a bloodbath from the beginning to the end."

"I did not know you were a fan, Tony." Ziva says. "As far as I know, you slept through the whole first and second act."

"Duh… so did you." Tony makes a pouty face at her, earning giggles from Abby and glares from Gibbs. "But hear me out, this is drama, right? The whole point of the plot is murder. Not real murder anyway, but murder nonetheless."

He turns to McGee who is looking up at the rafters where he could see two CSIs examining the platform where the woman had jumped for her demise. "Hey, McRomeo. Have you ever heard the reader's digest definition for opera?"

"No, Tony. But I'm sure you're about to tell me." McGee said in a morose tone of voice, barely paying attention to Tony.

"Any opera - the dramatic opera - is like this: The soprano falls in love with the tenor. The alto comes between their romance, there is betrayal, crime, passion, " Tony's voice becomes louder as he numbers the emotions shown in the play. "… and then, murder… right at the time the bass comes and ends everyone's party. Aha!" Tony stands right in the middle of the stage, his arms wide open, imagining the whole theater overflowing with people clapping at his performance at the stage.

Danny and Sheldon just look at the strange Fed with curious eyes, exchanging amused grins for a moment before going back to work.

"Whatever he is drinking, smoking or snorting, I want some." Danny mutters as he pushes his glasses over the bridge of his nose, just to receive a well placed elbow hit on his middle from his colleague and friend.

Sheldon stands up, shaking his head as he bags the rope used as a murder weapon. "But this is all fake. Special effects and carefully prepped theatrics. None of these were real. These people are not used to real lifeless bodies hanging from their stage."

"And considering the star cast we have for this play," Ducky mutters, his gaze going to the very fat soprano standing by a cop in the back of the stage, throwing horrified glances in their direction, "we might prepare ourselves for a long and windy battle of wills."

"Are you expecting trouble?" Mac asks, his eyebrows going up at the older M.E.

"Oh, dear. Are you not? These are stars, well-known for their talent and their skills. You can be assured that we will see a fine collection of egos clashing when you finally interrogate them."

"We just need some answers. We won't interrogate them. Much." Gibbs added darkly, just to receive a knowing look from his friend.

"Sure. I've seen you in action, my friend. These people are not the sort of cads and rascals you are used to. Be prepared to face a lot of resistance."

Ducky walks away, leaving both teams staring at his tuxedo clad figure as he walked out of the Metropolitan stage and leaving them standing paralyzed in the middle of the stage just waiting for the other shoe – or curtain – to fall.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

The interrogation of the cast of the Met was a disaster. Each soprano, tenor, alto and bass was questioned about the dead woman and most answers were evasive at best.

They could say about the singer, the pure voice that could hold people enraptured by its pure tonal colors, but very few could talk about the young woman behind the voice.

"Aleksandra was a great mezzo soprano. She was fantastic when we played Verdi." The famous fat soprano said, her gaze clear and attentive as she looked at the NY Detective and the NCIS agent.

"What can you tell us about her friends, family… did she have a boyfriend?"

"Oh… We weren't close. My schedule does not allow me to mix with the lower cast."

"Lower cast?"

"Yes, the figurants and the singers of the choir." Noticing the puzzlement in the faces of the two cops, she elaborated with a wave of her carefully manicured hand. "Let me explain. When we are on a full-fledged season we perform five days a week from Wednesday to Sunday. While the performance itself starts at eight pm we need to arrive at five for donning the costumes and makeup. Besides that there are classes at University and workshops and rehearsals and dinners with Met sponsors and…"

"I get it, you are very busy. But don't you even talk with the other singers?" Gibbs asked, not seen any kind of emotion towards the dead woman besides bafflement at the untimely death. There was no bonds of friendship between the lead soprano and the poor third or forth whatever choir singer.

"I see no point in doing that. They come and go with the seasons. Every beginning of the year the Met have new backups taken from everywhere in the world. The turnover is very intense as we have applicants from music schools from all over the world who request for a trial period at the Met."

"So you don't have any idea of Aleksandra's personal life."

"Dear detective, most of the time I don't even remember their faces, much less their names. Aleksandra just happened to beep in my radar as she had so much talent… but now it is all gone."

Gibbs glanced towards Mac, his face clearly showing that there was nothing that woman could add to their investigation. The detective sighed, aware that their talk was over.

"Thanks for your help, ma'am."

"You're welcome, sir."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Questioning the lead bass and the two altos was also for nothing. They moved from the main cast to the choir, which ended up filling the small precinct with people in leather thighs and green makeup imitating frog skin and several skimpy clad ladies who were the Valkyrie choir.

As the detective and agents diligently questioned each person of the cast, the background history of the late Aleksandra Hoffner started to unveil.

She was a single child, born and raised in Atlanta. At five was already singing at church and at nine her mother had already enrolled her for private music classes. As far as the few colleagues knew, no father was ever mentioned in her conversations. At twelve she was already performing with the local orchestra and at fifteen she was granted with a scholarship for a top school in the area. She later on received a scholarship to Italy where she studied at the Accademia Santa Cecilia and left it straight to be a regular in the extras at the Met.

She was a quiet woman, with a joyful attitude towards life and quite centered in her studies and her art. Not the type of person who would tie a thick rope around her own neck and jump from a platform over a stage in front of a theater full of people.

After questioning another Valkyrie clad lady, both Tony and Tim were tired all the way to their bones as they led one of the last Valkyries out of their interrogation room. It was three o'clock in the morning and they had been awake since six am that Friday as part of the gift they had bought for Ducky included several tours at the museums during the day and the opera tickets at night. And the dawn of Saturday was mere hours away.

So they were quite distracted waving the Valkyrie away when a woman shrieked from the other side of the room, running towards them with a grin in her face. Both men exchanged terrified and puzzled glances when that mass of lace and soft woman flesh jumped into McGee's arms, still shrieking and nuzzling his neck.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh"

"Uhm… Ma'am?" McGee poked the lady's shoulder, despite her arms being firmly wrapped around his neck and she was presently still shrieking.

"You never have any normal fans, McGorgeous."

"Ma'am?" McGee tried again, and the lady finally took a step back and grinned up at him.

"I can't believe it! It's Timmy Whinny?"

"What? How do you know that name?" McGee couldn't contain his horror at hearing his long lost nickname. One he had sworn never to utter again.

"Timmy… whinny?" Tony was barely containing his glee at the apparent source of gossip in front of him.

"I can't believe it's you!" The pretty lady with a painted face and sparkling grey eyes shouted, barely restraining her enthusiasm.

McGee gulped as he tried to disentangle himself from her octopus like arms. "Yeah… it's… me." He threw a desperate look at Tony who was just watching the scene barely containing his mirth. "Ah… but who are you?"

"Me? Oh gosh, of course… the makeup." She took a step back and self consciously touched her face, the skin totally covered with the bright makeup used for the stage of the Met. "I was so excited to see you again that never passed through my head that you wouldn't recognize me like this. It was so long ago."

"Yes, Tim, it was so long ago. How could you forget your… fairy?" Tony asked sarcastically, pointing to the strangely clad lady in front of the younger agent.

The woman grinned, shining perfect white teeth beneath her bright green lips, her skin literally glittering with the makeup carefully applied around her eyes, cheeks and lips giving her an almost ethereal look.

"Valkyrie." She corrected Tony, before looking at McGee. "I was curious when the girls said that they were interrogated by a Timothy McGee from NCIS. You always wanted to be a Federal Agent, always playing around with your little gun and chasing away bad guys threatening Sarah."

"You knew Sarah?" Tim folded his arms, trying to look beyond the makeup and figure out in his memories who that woman was.

"Of course! I even helped her when she fell from her bike while being chased from that dog… I think his name was…. Porky, dorky…" She frowned trying to find the right name, at the same the hammer of knowing hit McGee's forehead and he gasped.

"Yorky." McGee muttered, staring at her surprised. "Oh, God. Jane?" There was a note of incredulity in his voice as he looked her over, seeing someone very different from his childhood memories.

Oh, boy._ Very different._

The woman grinned, jumping excitedly in front of him. "Yes!"

"Oh my God." He gulped, trying valiantly to keep his eyes on her face but they stubbornly lowered to her gracious bust carefully covered with thin embroidered veils in a corset and her long legs in delicate thighs. "You… you…"

"Yeah… I know." She shrugged. "I've changed a lot. Gone are the pimples and the extra weight, the bucked teeth… and the glasses." She pointed to her own face, showing her carefully made-up eyes blinking rapidly. "I've had surgery five years ago to get rid of them."

"Wow…" McGee gulped, glancing at Tony and noticing the predatorial glint in his eyes. "Wow… you look…. You look…" He finally found the appropriate answer. "… **_different_**."

"Well… it's been - what? - sixteen… no… eighteen years since we've last seen each other. Right after Sarah's broken arm."

"Yeah, she … fell from a tree trying to climb to our tree fort."

"Yeah…" Both McGee and Jane looked at each other for a long moment, lost in the memories of the past.

A door slammed to their right making them jump apart, breaking the spell they had fallen into as they remembered riding their bikes down the street to school, playing tag in the backyard, just being kids and innocent and fun.

Gibbs came out of the next interrogation room with Detective Taylor, his eternal glare falling directly on his agents. One could even hear him growling low in his throat, sign that he was displeased with whatever he was seeing.

Jane bit her lower lip, deeply aware that she wasn't wanted around. She grinned impishly to McGee, "I think you have to get back to work… and I have to get back to mine. Ah…" She looked around, finding a pen lying around a close by desk. She walked up to it and grabbed it, running back to McGee's side.

"If you are staying in New York and want to …" McGee blushed brightly, but smiled at her impish grin so similar to the one of his memories, minus the bucket teeth, of course, "… grab a coffee or just chat about the past, give me a call." She opened his hand and scribbled a NY phone number, closing his hand over the number as if to protect it. "It was good to see you again, Timmy Whinny."

Still grinning, she leaned on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, leaving him with a startled expression on his face as she left, crossing the room in cloud of cloth, lace and sparkly things, running to join her sisters Valkyries who were giggling away across the room, all of them throwing come-hither at the young men. Detective Flack and Dr. Hawkes joined them, throwing knowing smiles at the ladies and at the mute struck agent.

"A Valkyrie, uhm? You are a very brave man, Agent McGee." Flack muttered, noticing the teasing glint in the other NCIS Agent's eyes.

"Uhm… what?" He blinked dazedly at them, trying to undo the spell he had fallen into.

"Valkyries are the virgin daughters of Wotan, the all powerful God, devoted to bring the fallen warriors to the Valhalla." Flack said, noticing the confused look in McGee's face as he explained the plot of that night's opera.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Hawkes laughed, clapping McGee's back lightly as he explained. "It means that it takes a **_hero_ **to go over her father to claim the warrior maiden, McGee. Good luck."

"Uhm?"

The three men left, leaving McGee to puzzle about the mystery presented by their words and by the strange appearance of one character of his long gone past.

- TBC -


	3. SIGFRIED

Third part of the Ring Cycle - Please play the song while reading. It's going to enhance the experience.

Soundtrack of this chapter: _Sigfried Primera Parte - Parte 2 de 11 _ in youtube

_PART THREE: SIGFRIED_

**_Siegfried_**

_(...)_  
_Now tell me, thou rascally rogue!_  
_Who are my father and mother?_

**_Mime_**  
_I found once in the Wood_  
_A woman who lay in tears:_  
_I helped her thence to the cave:_  
_And warmed her here at the fire._  
_A child bore she in secret;_  
_Sadly she gave it birth;_  
_She writhed her to and fro,_  
_I helped as best I could:_  
_Strong was the stress!_  
_She died: but Siegfried came to life_

**_Siegfried_**  
_So died my mother through me?_

**_Mime_**  
_To my charge she gave o'ver the child:_  
_I gladly sheltered thee_  
_What care did Mime bestow!_  
_What worry his goodness endured!_  
_A whimpering babe, brought I thee up…_

**_Sigfried_**  
_Full oft hast thou told me that tale!_  
_Now say: why call'st thou me Siegfried?_

**_Mime_**  
_Thy mother commanded_  
_So should I call thee;_  
_As "Siegfried" shouldst thou grow strong and fair_  
_And warmly I clothed the tiny mite…_

**_Siegfried_**  
_Now tell me,_  
_What name was my mother's?_

**_Mime_**  
_Her name I hardly know!_

It is always a hard task to talk to grieving parents. Even worse when their child dies such a meaningless death as a suicide. Detective Mac solemnly guided Aleksandra's mother into the precinct, her steps faltering as her strength was almost gone such was the grief crushing down her soul.

He steered her towards the interrogation room where Gibbs was already inside, the older man standing up the moment the grief-stricken mother crossed the threshold of the door. She fixed bloodshot eyes on him, barely acknowledging his presence before Mac gently guided her towards a chair on which she sat down heavily.

The trip from Atlanta to NY had been a torment. The whole time the old woman questioned over and over again where she could have failed with her child, what she could have done differently to help her beautiful oh so beautiful child.

Both Detective and Marine sat in front of her, trying to show their respect and concern in simple gestures as the atmosphere of the room felt stuffy with all that gloom that surrounded the stricken woman.

"Mrs. Hoffner," Mac started , waiting until she lifted bloodshot eyes to him and sniffed. "We're very sorry for your loss. Yet we would like to ask you some questions regarding Aleksandra in order to figure out why she… did this."

"Why? Oh Why? She was so happy! Finally she was singing at the Met! Her whole life she talked about taking the stage. It was her dream. It was in her blood."

"Ma'am, what can you tell us about Aleksandra?"

"She was such a gorgeous child. Music has always been so important to her. She has always been a glorious ray of sunshine in my life since the moment she was placed in my arms."

"I imagine that every mother says that from their own children." Gibbs muttered remembering Shannon and Kelly, before smothering the thought down as fast as it came. Now it wasn't a good time to linger in the past.

"Oh, but she's was literally placed in my arms." The woman said as she tore apart the paper tissue in her hand, nervously glancing at the agents.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You see," Aleksandra's mother dabbed her tears with a tissue. "Alexie was adopted."

NCIS NCIS NCIS

"Tadaaaaahhh" Tony shouted as he entered the room where the agents were gathered a few hours later. "So the plot thickens!"

Ziva rolled her eyes before going back to the background check in her hands, sitting beside Detective Flack's desk.

The gorgeous detective sat back on his chair, looking at the incoming Fed with a small grin.

"I hate to admit it, but you are right. What we thought was just a simple suicide is turning into a quite convoluted case."

"Mrs. Hoffner's statement indeed raised more questions than given answers."  
Danny muttered, "Her admission that she rescued a pregnant woman and taken her child as her own as she died at birth is quite dramatic."

"But based on facts." McGee said as he came towards their desk with an open laptop in hands. "According to this, a Jane Doe was taken to the emergency room of Atlanta Mercy Hospital by Mrs. Gertrude Hoffner exactly twenty-three years ago. She had been in a car accident and given birth shortly after to a small baby girl. Due to the gravity of her injuries and the difficult birth she died a couple of hours later, leaving a nameless child with a dead mother in hospital care. Mrs. Hoffner kept visiting the child for a couple of weeks and finally petitioned to the court to shelter the child. As she was well known citizen in her county her request was granted and soon young Aleksandra Hoffner was born."

"Any mention of a father anywhere?"

"Mrs. Hoffner was already a widow when she adopted Aleksandra. As she had been a foster mom several times before it was no big jump from providing temporary homes to adopting a child."

"So any way we can track down who was the dead woman?" McGee asked, just to receive a nod from Danny.

"We've requested the files and the DNA lab works to be sent to us. But it's going to take a while." The detective answered while he pushed his glasses back over the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick he apparently couldn't get rid of.

"Okay, now let's work another angle. Who are Asim and Hettie?" Ziva asked, leaning over the table to look at the crime scene photos showing the writings on the skin of the girl.

McGee shook his head, loading another screen in his laptop. "I wasn't successful in finding a Hettie but Asim is a very specific name."

"African descent?" Flack asked.

"Yes, and for some reason we don't have that many Afro Americans singing at the Met, so I imagined I could work this angle." McGee muttered as he did his magic with the keyboard.

"So… ?" DiNozzo was never good at waiting, so he went around the desk and peered over McGee's shoulder.

McGee shot him a smartass smile, aware that he had a good lead. "I was right. Remember that the fat soprano said that the turnover is very high. Most of the time the lead singers don't even remember the faces of their supporting cast, much less their names. But the Met has a very careful record of everyone who steps on their stage."

"Did you find Asim?" Ziva asked, also impatiently wanting info on the case.

"Exactly twenty-five years ago a young prodigy tenor named Asim Abubaker was hired for a full season, singing with the main cast of the Met for eighteen months."

"How long was his internship?" Danny asked as he reviewed the files he had in his hands, trying to find the background checks they had done on the current singers.

"Twenty month contract. He disappeared before the end of the season, forcing the casting director to change in the last two months."

Flack asked. "Any idea of where he is now?"

"None. He simply stopped coming to the rehearsals. There was a small investigation on his disappearance but he had no family to speak of." McGee sighed, aware that they had hit another dead end.

"That sucks." DiNozzo had a way with words… but in that case it was quite accurate. He looked with a smart smile at his Probie, aware that his friend was going to hit the ceiling with the suggestion playing in his mind. "But I have an idea that could help us unveil this mystery."

"What would that be?" Danny asked as he closed his file, looking curiously at the tall fed.

The smile on Tony's face could only be described as diabolical. "Only a Valkyrie could help us on this."

"Who?" Ziva looked at him as if he had finally lost his marbles. All of them.

"No!" McGee blushed. Immediately and in a deep shade of red.

"McGee's super mega friend, cute singer and dancer from the other day of yours truly McDreamy, or should I say Timmy Whinny?"

"Shut up, Tony."

"Come on, man. You know that you want to call her. Just do it, at least with an official excuse to poke her brains. Maybe you can poke something else as well."

"You're a pig, Tony. And she probably has no idea what this is about." McGee murmured darkly, folding his arms and glaring at his colleague at the mere idea of meeting a friend to pump her for information.

"But there's no crime in trying. And I know you've been fingering that iPhone of yours since we've sat down to check the evidence."

"What?" McGee took his hand out of his pockets, blushing deep red as his fingers had been on this iPhone the whole time he had been talking with the NY detectives, Jane's number safely recorded in its memory. "I'm doing no such thing."

"Right. But man, think about it. If there's one thing women are good at, it's gossip. And I'm sure a mezzo like her would know all the dirt hidden in the bowels of the Met."

Flack sighed, "As much as I hate to do it, I have to agree that he's right. If by any chance there's any type of rumor circulating in the music circles that could help us unravel Miss Hoffner's untimely death, it would be with your little friend."

"Call her, McGee." Ziva pleaded, her brown gaze fixed on him.

McGee rolled his eyes and bowed to peer pressure, getting the phone in sweaty and shaky hands and dialing the number in its memory. It rang three times before a sweet voice answered it in a breathless tone.

"Heloooooouuuu"

"Oh… Jane?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"Oh… this is McGee. Timothy McGee."

"Timmy!" Her voice was euphoric and breathless, as if she had just run a marathon… or as if he had just interrupted her making love… with someone else.

"Yeah… listen, about that coffee… Can we try to …"

"Sure! But you mean… now?"

"Oh… no! I mean… yes, if you're not too busy." Tony facepalmed himself as McGee blundered his way through the call and Ziva giggled at her collegue's universally known inability of having a straight conversation with the fairer sex.

"Ah, don't worry. I was just doing some adjustments on the figurine I'm supposed to wear next week. Let's say… we meet in half an hour at the Starbucks at Washington Heights?"

"Yep. That sounds… great."

"Great. See you soon, then. Bye!" McGee disconnected, looking at his colleagues with a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Go get her, tiger." Tony shouted mockingly, receiving an immediate response from McGee who grabbed the first thing his hands could find on Flack's desk and threw it in his general direction. In this case, it was a stress ball in soft blue color.

"Oh... Shut up, Tony!"

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

It was strange to meet Jane again. Without the garish makeup and skimpy costume, Jane looked more like a junior secretary than a professional singer, in her demure court shoes and gray pencil skirt and white blouse. McGee had already ordered and was waiting sitting in one of the many tables of the room strategically placed to give him a view of the entry door holding firmly his caramel cappuccino with cinnamon when she finally entered and waved at him.

She smiled brightly when he waived back, walking in hurried steps towards him and sitting down in the chair right beside him, not the one opposite to him.

"Hey!" He greeted her enthusiastically genuinely glad to see her again.

"Hey to you too! I'm glad you called. I was wondering if I would need to call you instead."

"Ah… no. I'm working, you know." He blushed lightly under her scrutiny, but her eyes were still friendly and full of compassion as she remembered the circumstances that made their paths cross again.

" Ah, that's true." She sobered a little at the thought, showing genuine sadness at death of her colleague.

"Did you know her? Aleksandra?"

"We've sang together in a couple of places. But I can't honestly say that I know much about her."

"Yeah, I've got the impression that you girls don't socialize much." McGee started to play with his coffee cup, just watching as Jane nervously fingered her phone, her smile for the first time a little bit forced.

"Socialize? No way. We mingle, we prowl and we hunt sponsors for our careers, but there's very little time for socializing in this group."

"And Aleksandra? Was she one of the girls who mingled or the ones who prowled?"

"Uhm… she was fairly new but she had a lot of talent, and mingled a lot with the cast. You know. The main choir and such. The leads are always kind of unavailable, they only come at the last couple of rehearsals just to test the sound with the choir and then they're done for the next show, next concert, whatever."

"Do you remember any moment that she might have interacted with anyone that she was not acting like herself? That she was nervous, angry, or …"

"No… I've told that cop before that we had never really known each other well." She squinted her eyes at him. "But hey, I thought we weren't talking about work. Either yours or mine."

"Yeah, I know." McGee looked at his own coffee, not daring to look at her and show his real intentions. "But we're kind of stuck in the investigation and any help is good help."

"I don't know… what exactly do you need?"

"Do the names Asim and Hettie mean anything to you?"

"Uhm… Asim doesn't ring a bell. But Hettie… Hettie… Are you talking about Heather Carter, an alto?"

"Heather who?"

"Heather Carter. People used to call her Hettie Betty, as she had the figure and the curves of Betty Boop. But that was a couple of years ago." She frowned a little, "I think more than two decades ago."

"Oh… no, I've never heard of this name. And it didn't show up in our investigation. Who was she?"

Jane finally giggled, shaking her head making her natural blonde hair bob on her shoulders. "Silly. Of course it didn't show. You are looking at the rolls of singers and staff at the Met, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"She was never a singer at the Met. She was a pupil of Mr. Carlo, one of the greatest singing coaches ever to work at the Met, but she never actually took the stage. You've met him at the theatre, he was talking with Mr. Francesco, the stage director."

Now that was news for McGee.

Not necessarily good ones.

"Really? When we questioned him he said he had never heard the name Hettie in his entire life."

"Ah… that's Quatsch!"Seeing his confused looks, she explained with a wave of her hand. "Nonsense in German. He gave her singing lessons at the conservatory approximately twenty years ago, prepping her for her grand debut."

McGee fingered the lid of his coffee, his gaze on Jane and his mind working the case desperately. "What happened?"

"Nothing. She left one day and Mr. Carlo never spoke of her again. Some kind of family problem."

"And you know that because…"

Now Jane laughed wholeheartedly, leaning towards him with a impish glint in her eyes. "Silly boy. I'm also Carlos' student."


	4. GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG

Forth part of the Ring Cycle - Please play the song while reading. It's going to enhance the experience.

Soundtrack of this chapter: _Götterdämmerung Segunda Parte - Parte 10 de 10 _ in youtube

**PART FOUR: GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG**

Gibbs and Mac approached the stocky man talking with the one of the lead tenors, giving him suggestions on how to breathe to keep the voice going and going. Both cops stopped just to feet away from him, waiting for him to acknowledge their presence which he did only with a glance. He still kept talking for a few moments before sending the tenor away and turning his full attention to them.

"How can I help you, gentleman? As you can see, I'm fairly busy and I've already spoken to your gorillas."

"Well," Gibbs gave him his best glare, not willing to give him even an inch of leeway. "You could start explaining why you lied."

Carlo made a face of surprise, but none of the cops bought it. "Who, me? About what?"

"About knowing who Hettie was." Mac added, not willing to give him even an inch to lie again to them.

"I sincerely don't…"

"Heather Carter, Mr. Carlo. She was one of your students two decades ago." Gibbs approached the man and glared him down, forcing him to take a step back. "Think hard. Very hard."

"Oh… you mean… I … uhm… you see, there are so many students that come and go that sometimes their names escape my mind and ..."

"What happened to her?" Mac insisted, taking the other side and between him and Gibbs Carlo was surrounded. Literally.

"She had to go home. I never saw her again."

"Wouldn't that be because she was pregnant? We were able to track her movements down to Atlanta where she was attending several appointments with her doctor. An obstetrician."

"Listen, I know nothing of it. Heather was a bright girl and it was a pity that she decided to throw it all away and leave."  
"She didn't leave, not by her own accord. She was forced to, wasn't she? Who was the child's father?" Mac asked, seeing Carlo starting to become unglued.

Carlo was starting to sweat. He turned his back to the agents, shouldering them away and walking in hurried steps out of the small stage leaving both cops in the middle of it.

"Aleksandra was Heather's child, wasn't she?" Mac called out, not surprised when Carlo froze in his escapade. "Heather left NY back to her hometown where she could give birth to her baby away from its father's influence."

Gibbs and Mac approached the man just like hungry leopards would approach a trembling prey.

"DNA came back half an hour ago. The woman Mrs. Hoffner helped was Heather Carter. And Aleksandra was her daughter." Mac said.

Gibbs smile was definitely predatory. "But imagine our surprise when we searched the other DNA donor."

Carter turned around and was looking with a glowing glare at the agents, his fury slowly burning beneath the silks and the polished surface.

"All Met employees are carefully checked before joining their ranks. And that includes DNA profiling at CODIS just to ensure they are not harboring a criminal among their precious artists." Mac explained, sure that the man now knew his options were fewer and fewer at each minute going by.

"You know nothing about this."

"Then why don't you explain to us." Gibbs folded his arms and glared.

"It was just business."

That wasn't good enough in Gibbs' book. "Sure, and yet she had to leave town with your child in her womb."

"Where does Asim fit in all this?" Mac was curious about that little piece of the story which until now hadn't fit anywhere.

Carlo stuffed his hands in his pockets and refused to meet either cops' eyes.

"Tell us!"

"He was just a nice guy who was in the wrong time at the wrong place. If he just kept to himself, nothing would have had happened!"

"Then why don't tell us what happened?" Gibbs pressured him, noticing that the man was folding and fast.

"No man, this is my life. My entire life I've dedicated to these walls, to the people who step on this stage."

"And you will dedicate your next twenty years to the walls in Rykers if you don't tell us the truth." Mac was willing to get his cuffs and arrest that man straight away, just for the pleasure of doing it. But they needed a confession first.

"It was just part of the business. I … sampled their … goods … in exchange of a chance of an audition with the casting director. Just a fair business exchange."

"But Heather got pregnant." Gibbs' face was becoming grimmer at each horrible truth that man said.

"And Asim figured out how you abused of those innocent women under your care." Mac was implacable to throw that man's sins on his face.

"Heather was far from innocent!" Carlo shouted, his face becoming red. "She knew exactly the terms of the deal!"

"And what happened next? What did Asim do?" Gibbs wanted to know how the pieces of the puzzle fitted to each other.

"Is he even alive?" Mac wondered out loud, not even expecting an answer.

Carlo sighed loudly, before finally shaking his head in defeat. "He was sweet on Hettie, but she wasn't… uhm… available. When he got wind of the deals broken at the backstage he got mad. He got this crazy idea in his head of playing a hero to Hettie, so he confronted me and… well. It didn't end well for him."

"You killed him!" Gibbs accused him, just to make the man jump, scared.

"No! But I might have as well pulled the trigger. He came charging at me right after a rehearsal, when all the cast had left. He tried to order me to back down, to leave her alone but he was just a black boy who thought he could sing with the stars. In the end, we showed him his place."

That made both Gibbs and Mac pause. "_We_?"

Carlo looked startled at the cops, aware of what he had revealed unwillingly.

"Who else?"

Carlo gulped.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS CSI

Several police cars crossed the city towards the Met. The cops, in a choreographed symphony, left in an organized chaos their cars and entered the theatre, aware of their duty and bound by their honor to bring justice to those who had no one to defend them.

McGee followed Mac, Danny and Flack into the majestic music hall, closely followed by Gibbs, Tony and Ziva.

On the stage a couple of singers were rehearsing the scenes of the next month's play, carefully guided by the stage director and some other techs. They all paused as the stage was taken over by several cops, looking confused at the uniformed men who were walking with a clear objective in mind.

The director, a thin man with a French hat and an eternal scent that strongly reminded Mac of citrus approached them, glaring and waving his hands at the air but the NY cop wasn't about to be stopped. He gestured to his own men who seized two older men, one tenor and one bass, immediately reading their rights.

The lead tenor, a world renowned singer, glared at the cops, immediately demanding explanation.

"What is the meaning of this farce?"

"It means that the show is over. For you and your bullies."

"What?"

"Mr. Donizetti, you are arrested for the murder Mr. Asim Abubaker and for the murder or Miss Aleksandra Hoffner."

"But she committed suicide. She jumped. Right here!"

"No, sir. She was forced into it."

"But how can I you be so sure?"

"Let's say that a girl can only take so much abuse before taking drastic actions."

"She was pregnant." McGee said, glancing towards Jane who was a couple of feet away behind a curtain, watching horrified the happenings on the stage. "And the M.E. found fresh seminal fluid in her body as well as contusions which indicate that… she wasn't entirely willing."

"We only have to figure out which one of you four put a babe in her womb and left a little bit of yourself behind." Gibbs studied each singer, noticing how they avoided his gaze. "Or maybe we will be surprised. We might find a little bit of each of you. After all, you shared everything. Your cars, your fame, your stage, why not your women?"

"You know nothing about this!"

"Of course we don't." Ziva said as she tightened the cuffs in the tenor's wrists, making him grimace at her. "It is just business as usual, is it not?"

Mac cuffed the famous singer, slowly leading him out of the stage under the horrified gazes of the choir and of the stage director, who was losing in just one strike his lead tenor, his second tenor and his first bass.

The remaining singers started to gossip between themselves, their voices growing in volume as they commented what had just happened. The cops started leaving the stage but Gibbs stopped, his gaze piercing each of the singers left and aware that there were still many secrets buried in that stage, but it took the desperate cry for help of a young woman to literally uncover one of the many skeletons hidden within those walls.

"We know about the favoritism scheme Carlos and the lead singer was running." The murmuring rose and lowered, diminishing lightly. "And we know why you haven't come forward. You fought a lot to have a place in this stage and you were willing to pay the price – any price – they demanded in order to be given a chance to be here."

The younger singers gathered together, as one mass, each supporting the other, aware of the silent admission that none was willing to make.

"So we would like you to know that we are willing to take your witnesses statements and in exchange of the truth about the scheme we are willing to negotiate that none of your names will be mentioned in the official files. The accusation will be anonymous, keeping you safe from scrutiny from the press and from the paparazzi. We have evidence against them, but we would like to know how many other people were destroyed by their little game, and how many other Aleksandras are among you people."

Gibbs pointed to Flack and Danny, both cops observing the positive reaction of the crew at the stage, "The detectives will stay behind and take your statements, only of those willing to unveil the truth. Thank you very much."

A young pale blonde woman detached from the group, her eyes shining with tears as she approached Flack. The tall detective silently nodded and gestured to his side, guiding the pale woman away to get her statement.

After that one, several women and quite few men took a step forward, all eager to reveal what had happened in the bowels of that theatre, but none had been until then had the courage to expose it.

McGee followed Tony and Ziva in a sedated pace as they crossed the ample hall of the theatre towards Gibbs and Mac who were organizing everything to take the three men away along with Mr. Carlos, the singing coach.

McGee watched the tenor being taken away by the NY detective duly cuffed and wondered at the twits of fate that led that man, who had all and could have much more, to throw all that away in reckless acts which resulted in the loss of so many lives.

So many lives destroyed by racism, lust and murder.

Sometimes life is really even stranger than fiction, because fiction needs to make sense. There must be some kind of order – an organization of facts that explains to onlookers why a character X went from point A to point B.

Real life is so much more complicated than that.

Something about that singing coach still gives him goosebumps, specially when he considered with whom he had had contact with.

Thinking about that he looked up towards the theater, finding Jane staring at the movement of cops from the middle of the stage, her hair floating in the air as the swirling wind blew against the soft folds of the dress she was wearing. Her face was stricken, seeing one of her mentors being taken away for his horrible crimes. Suddenly, as if feeling McGee's gaze on her, she gently turned her head and their gaze met across the theater hall.

In it, for just few seconds, they shared a lifetime of wishes and long held desires, forgotten in time and erased by the years. Neither of them was still those innocent children riding bicycles to school in autumn, sharing sandwiches during lunch break or sitting side by side by the lake in their hometown.

No, their paths had diverged a long time ago, each taking their own way and for some cruel twist of fate they've met again just to see what could have been… but will never come to be.

Finally she smiled, gracing her benediction on him as she nodded accepting him as he is now, as the man she could never see in the boy he was then. As if sensing her thoughts, he smiled too, aware that he would cherish the gift of her friendship forever, but there's no reason to regret what was never meant to be.

With a deep breath she gently bowed to him, as if bowing to the thundering clapping of a full theatre, before turning around and walking into the backstage in a billowing cloud of full skirts and silk, effectively leaving him and what their shared past might have meant behind.

"What was that?" Tony asked him suddenly, surprising him out of his reverie.

"The final act."

"What? Are you drunk, McGee?"

McGee glanced at Tony, seeing the puzzled look on his colleague's face.

"They say that it ain't over until the fat lady sings. They're wrong."

McGee started to walk towards the exit of the theatre being closely followed by Tony, who was still looking confused at his probie.

"What are you talking about?"

"It's just over when it's over, Tony. When it's over … it's over."

"You're not making any sense, McThinker."

"May be… Maybe not." He glances towards Gibbs waiting impatiently at the steps of the theatre. "Let's go home."

"Thank God." Tony walked down the corridor side by side to McGee, here and there gazing at his colleague who suddenly smiled as if struck by an amusing idea.

"You know, there's a Verdi festival in DC next month. Wanna go?" There's an amused glint in McGee's eyes as he sees the apoplexic reaction of his friend at the suggestion.

"Just if I get to shoot the tenor." Tony muttered under his breath.

"I knew you would get the hang of it one way or the other."

- THE END -


End file.
